


there's something broken about this, (but i might be hoping about this)

by therewasclavisbutfuckclavis



Category: Tales of Xillia
Genre: M/M, i need jesus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-23
Updated: 2015-03-23
Packaged: 2018-03-19 04:15:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3595995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therewasclavisbutfuckclavis/pseuds/therewasclavisbutfuckclavis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He lost all sense of resolve when an amber eyed boy smiled at him as if he was something to be revered.</p>
            </blockquote>





	there's something broken about this, (but i might be hoping about this)

**Author's Note:**

> a gift for ciil ;^) i'm sorry i've never actually played the game so there's a high chance of oocness.  
> title's from hozier's from eden. (whispers but i listened to his work song while writing)

 

He's a tragedy

Misfortune and catastrophe woven into the fragile seams of his existence. It burns, scorching into his flesh, and he wonders if he'll ever be free from such depravity.

 

He's not a religious man, but at times he thinks if he were, he'd blame all his misgivings on a merciless God who took no pity upon him. A God that refuses to exist.

 

For now, all he has is his own sinned heart and corrupted mind. So he lies and cheats, apathetic to the cruelty he inflicts. How can one be sympathetic if they were never blessed with such equal favor?

 

He knows God doesn't exist,

but salvation was never an option for him anyways.

 

**x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x**

 

The kid's so innocent it hurts. Not in a pitiful feeling way, the kind that makes him utterly sorry for the naivete of the boy, no. He's so virtuous; so pure, - Alvin wishes being in the mere presence of him can cleanse the dirty black, staining the space beneath his chest. He envies the bright smile he receives from the boy - even prays it can relieve him of the immorality breathing destruction down the back of his mind.

 

He's no fool.

Fruitless hopes were something he abandoned long ago.

But there's something about this boy that makes him want to believe in something beyond the harsh realities and ugliness of this world.

 

**x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x**

_"Alvin."_

 

He's in too deep.

He shouldn't be enjoying the way the boy says his name -

shouldn't be invested in the way his voice forms an ache in his chest.

 

There's obscenity thrumming in his blood, causes his pulse to accelerate whenever the other is around. He tries to calm his heart to a steady lull when Jude is around; think sad thoughts, think disgusting thoughts, - but the perversion racing in the confines of his mind pays him no heed.

 

It's all too much and he rushes out of the room with an obvious lie every. single. time.

A shroud of shame and guilt buries itself deep within himself whenever he catches the brief expression of hurt on the boy's features just as he leaves.

 

He promised to himself that he'd protect the boy and his views from the natural hideousness of their world...Nowadays, he's trying to shelter Jude from himself.

 

**x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x**

 

Alvin's always been a weak boy.

Such a pitiful, pathetic excuse for an existence.

He uses this as justification to be powerless to his own human nature;

helpless to stop himself from falling head first into desire.

**x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x**

 

He hides his hands in leathers.

Beneath are fingers colored onyx,

palms covered in obsidian,

dyed in sin.

 

One day he removes them, the yearning to feel bare skin against his naked fingertips, too strong to withhold. It's unbelievable, he thinks, his touches cooling against heated skin. His ears burn at the hitch of breath, _((so quiet, so fragile))_ , against his lips, as he craves to devour the boy beneath him.

 

He can't remember how this began, doesn't even want to wander on the thought, afraid it'll only make him regret his actions; their actions -

Because this wasn't just about him.

 

And he remembers this as the body beneath him twists and squirms beneath his ministrations, experienced hands outlining imperfections into constellations, mapping them into his memory; to store away for future reference.

 

He's never been this slow nor gentle with his past lovers, - _(should he even call him that? he's not sure)_. He was more of the, get off and be done type, never one to actually care for his partner. Why should he bother anyways? Pleasure could be derived from others without the need for any sort of emotional connection. It was more of a hindrance, really.

 

He had his share of angry women and men alike, all upset and angry over his indifference to these relationships he never even knew existed.

They called him heartless and cruel, because; _'how can you put yourself in situations where your heart and soul should be immersed into pleasing the other person, yet only care for your own selfish needs?'._

He had laughed at them then, _'humans are simple creatures. we take what we want and that's all that matters.'_

 

But now he understands,

and somewhere in the back of his mind, he's apologizing to every single person he inflicted sorrow upon for his callous ways.

 

So he redoubles his efforts now with Jude, takes time to savor the sounds of his tiny gasps, hitches of breath and trembling whimpers. The feel of heated skin against his fingertips, warm lips upon his own, and inexperienced hands clutching at his shoulders.

 

For every person he's made cry over his apathy, he presses another kiss over the others pulse, just beneath his jaw; _a promise each time to never hurt him._

 

He pauses briefly, looking back up into clouded amber eyes, watches as the others stare grows more hazy as he tugs the unbuttoned dress shirt away from narrow shoulders. He notes, dimly, how much smaller, _more breakable_ , the boy beneath him is, and with that thought, he bends his head back down, pressing chaste kisses against the skin of his shoulder.

 

Alvin continues these small, sort of gifts, peppered along the length of the younger boy's body until Jude's breathing is growing heavier and his eyes are half-lidded with an expression that's screaming greed, and hunger, and carnality, and - he wonders if the boy will turn from naive kitten to a ferocious lion, intending to eat him whole if he lets him.

 

 _"Al..."_ There's a certain needy tone, rough like gravel and burning like fire in his voice, and the fingers that were tangling themselves within his mesh of hair is now tugging, and wanting attention, so he complies, bringing his head back up to have heated lips crash into his own.

 

The clash of teeth and tongue, lips and breaths is harsh and dangerous, threatening to push him overboard and ruin him.

 

He lost all sense of resolve when an amber eyed boy smiled at him as if he was something to be revered.

  
**x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x**

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!


End file.
